Farewell Happy Fields
by persephoneia
Summary: The story of Hades and Persephone. A delving into the the myth that brought winter into the world: How Persephone became Hades' queen. My own attempts to justify the ways of Hades to men and tell the story of that forbidden fruit. Hades/Persephone.
1. No Light, but Rather Darkness Visible

**Farewell Happy Fields**

**The Story of Hades and His Coy Mistress**

**by Persephoneia  
**_E. Caddy Compson_

**A Word from the Writer**: My interest has long been piqued by the mystique of Greek myth, or mythology in general, one might say, though recent re-re-readings in my Literature class at the University have quite served to rekindle my spirits in the way of writing; this is my outlet. You may notice the use of occasional (or more than occasional) sentence fragments and things of the sort; it's a result of reading Faulkner one too many times, I assure you, and all done in (an attempt at) good taste. I hope sincerely that any whom may come across this piece will like it, and perhaps leave me a review once you have read it; let me know what it is you liked, hated, or think can be improved. Feedback is always appreciated :)

**Disclaimer:** The Greek myths are not of my own creation; I claim no ownership over them whatsoever. References to other works of literature, especially in the way of metaphysical poetry, or references to Milton or Ovid or Homer, may be littered throughout this work; they are not mine, either. The title comes from a line in a work by John Milton entitled "Paradise Lost," with a reference in the subtitle to a Marvell work. This is merely my own interpretation of a much greater, quite well-known story. I hope you will enjoy reading it, as I have enjoyed writing it. You may find my works posted on various sites, but they will always be posted under the same pen name and with credit to the same author.

I've included endnotes to clarify whatever might be unclear, so scroll down and refer to it if you feel the need, whenever a number in parenthesis (not superscripted, since my formatting didn't hold up) comes up. Hope that helps!

**Brief Summary: **This is, in fact, yet another retelling of the Hades/Persephone myth, though I am going to do my very best to make it a bit different. We will see how it turns out. The first chapter is an introduction, but rest assured, all that should be "to come" will. If that makes sense…

**Invocation. **_Inspired by J. Milton._

OF Death's Great Disobedience, and the Fruit

Of that Forbidden Realm, whose darkness taste

Brought Queen into Underworld, and Ceres' woe,

With loss of Kore, till one greater Zeus

Restore spring, and regain the blissful Flow'rs,

Sing Immort'l Muse, that on the greatest top

Of Olympus, amidst the clouds, didst inspire

That lone King, who drew the last lot of all,

In the Beginning ruled the Darkness

Beyond th'River Styx, and Elysium.

Delight thee more, and the rivers that flow'd

Fast by the land of Death; I thence

May justify th' ways of Hades to men.

**I. No Light, but Rather Darkness Visible**

Darkness. Darkness everywhere, enveloping darkness, suffocating -- almost, in the salty air of the sea nearby -- there was, and only the faintest of sounds, save the crashing of the waves outside the cave could be heard from within. And then, footsteps. Small footsteps echoed through the darkness, pitter-patter of smooth sandal against rougher stone almost disturbing the deafening silence, and light of a torch breaking the reverie of the void of dark. The light of the torch shone, bright, it would appear, to any within the cave, illuminating the path ahead of a woman, a woman pretty in her appearance, chestnut locks atop her head twisted simply but elegantly up, secured in place by an ornate clip of rich gold, flowers engraved into its fair polished surface. Her chiton(1) flowed loosely about her body, high girded beneath a light periwinkle himation(2), aquamarine fibulae clasped tastefully at the shoulders. She made her way forth gingerly, going deeper and deeper into the cave, each step taken with great care.

And then, her torch went out, blown by a startling wind into darkness. The goddess sharply inhaled a breath of the salty air, still evident even this far into the mysterious cave, and suddenly torches lit all around her, with speed previously unseen, illuminating a large chamber and revealing to her the sight she sought, the sight that many feared, the white-robed apportioners she'd been told to seek out.

And seek out she had. Before her, the fates(3) sat, Chlotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the personifications of destiny, the ones who held the answers to her questions and so much more.

"Demeter," came the voice of the spinner, Chlotho, spinning life's thread to her spindle from her distaff.

The goddess started, shaking off her wonder at the sight of them, recomposing herself, "Parcea, please forgive me," she said, bowing and starting to kneel before them, "I--"

"Rise, fair apple-bearer," came the voice of Lachesis as she paused in the measuring of thread, gentle now despite her typically disdainful demeanour.

"Yes, please rise, child," said the last, Atropos, placing her abhorréd shears down for a moment.

"We have indeed been expecting you," said the first once again, stopping her spinning momentarily, and rising to meet their guest. "Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to an empty chair, as Atropos the cutter of the thread conjured it handily before the first fate sat once again.

The goddess of the grain nodded, "Thank you so much, great Moerae," she said, even as they raised their hands dismissively. "I tried to come as quickly as I could--"

"But in your condition, child, you did the best that you could," came the voice of one.

"You should be cautious, child," said the second.

"We do understand, you know" the third chimed in.

The poppy goddess sighed, drained from her journey long, knowing that the fates were omniscient, knowing all as it happened, before it happened, and knowing all the past like no others could possibly. "Yes, I'm sorry. Again, I--"

"There's no need to apologize, dear," the cutter of life's thread said.

"Yes, Atropos is right, fair Demeter," said Lachesis. "It is only natural to come at this time, to call upon Chlotho."

The fate mentioned fixed a rare smile upon their visitor, spinning again for a moment before pausing once more. "Yes, goddess. Indeed it is." She sighed, gingerly passing a finger along the thread on the spindle. "We have foreseen your questions; have foreseen your calling for knowledge of what lies in store for the life you hold within you at present, the life that will commence a fortnight from this very day." She paused, observing Demeter, rising from her seat to place a hand over the goddess's swelled midsection, feeling a soft, gentle kick as she did so. Her gaze darted to her consorts, who all rose.

"You will be blessed with a daughter, fair Demeter of the harvest and grain," Chlotho said, prophetically, "a daughter of beauty to rival that of love's goddess, not the same sort of beauty, but one all her own, and wits to rival the wisest man."

"She will be one who destroys the light, at first only in name," Lachesis continued, measuring a thread with her great rod-like scepter, "and she will bring you the greatest joys known to a mother."

"But," came the voice of Atropos, "your fair Kore will one day be taken, stolen away to lands unknown by a man with much power."

"Yes, very much power," continued Chlotho, "I see much pain, much suffering for you, so much time apart."

The grain goddess's eyes opened wide with fear, with anxiety and wrought with pain at what the future might hold. "Oh, fates, what can I do? How--"

"How--can you prevent this horrible fate?" Atropos finished for her.

"It is a natural question for a mother to ask," said Lachesis.

"That it is," Chlotho chimed in once again, reverie of prophecy yet unbroken. "Goddess, nourisher of the green earth and all that is good, mother of agriculture, keep your young Kore safe, secluded from any that might abduct her, or I see much pain for you, and for humanity. Let not her be taken from you, lest she be stolen to a place where you lack the power, have not the resources to do a single thing about it."

The fates bowed their heads to the goddess in an almost sympathetic fashion, and she bowed her head in return.

"Thank you, great apportioners," the goddess said, rising from her seat, voice shaking as she steadied herself. "Thank you, so much…"

And then she was gone, trying not to run as fast as her weak and wobbling legs might carry her, trying not to collapse with fitful tears of anger and frustration, stopping outside the cave and finally falling to her knees, sorrowfully, clutching her himaton over her chest and making a silent vow, placing a hand over her abdomen, swelled by nearly nine months of pregnancy. No one would take her away, not her Kore, not her sweet Persephone.

**Endnotes.**

(1)_chiton – _a chiton was an Ancient Greek article of clothing, consisting of fabric, usually in two pieces, draped over the body, usually with either a high-girded belt or low-girded belt, or both to help contain it. (Called a _monochiton_ if used alone, but usually worn with a _himation_ – see below)

(2)_himation – _himations were another type of clothing of Ancient Greece, and usually worn over a chiton if by ladies, which served the function of a sort of cloak. Its fabric was usually heavier, but not quite as bulky as the later Roman toga. A himation could also be used without a chiton (called an _achiton_ sometimes this way)

(3)_Fates– _the Fates, also called "Moirae," "Moerae," or "Parcae," among other things, controlled the thread of life in mythology. Conceived here in the tradition of there being three of them, Clotho spun the thread of life (and was usually consulted by pregnant women before they gave birth), Lachesis measured the thread, and Atropos cut it. They were also called the "great apportioners."


	2. Such joy ambition finds

**Farewell Happy Fields**

**by Persephoneia  
**_E. Caddy Compson_

**Author's Note.**

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed my first chapter! To those who had concerns about any sort of confusion regarding terminology, name variation-go-betweens, etc, I've gone back and added notes to the end to make everything easier to understand :). Again, I thank you all sincerely for reading this, and for taking any time to share your thoughts, suggestions, comments, concerns, etc, with me; it's all greatly appreciated!

References to other works are more like easter eggs, no copyright infringement intended (though I think most of the works I'll allude to will be out of copyright scope…). My works may also be found elsewhere, under the same pen name and such.

**II. Such joy ambition finds.**

Laughter resounded through the air, melodious notes stirring in the light breeze that played on Enna's fields, lush greenery all around and a placid brook up ahead, as two figures treaded through the grasses, skipping and jumping and running about.

"That's positively vile, Hermes!" came a feminine voice, youthful yet shrill in its protest.

"You know that with those sandals I cannot catch you! It's completely unfair!" she groaned, trying in vain to keep up with the equally youthful messenger god.

"Oh, Kore, come on," he replied, grinning at her, teasingly. "It's so much more fun this way!"

"Perhaps for you," the short maiden shot back back darkly, flustered.

Mirth glistened in Hermes' blue eyes. "Alright, then, why not another game?"

Kore looked at him, suspicion evident in her light features, dark eyes narrowed. "Depends on what it is," she said, sceptically.

The young god smiled at her. "Kore, don't be so serious," he said. "I'm only playing with you. Come off it."

White-armed Persephone gave him an exasperated look, sighing. "Alright, Hermes, what is it?"

"Let's go to Olympus," he said, mirthfully.

The young girl's eyes opened wider, and she shook her head vehemently. "Olympus? No, Hermes, I can't. Perhaps when the Council has adjourned, but—well, mother said I had to stay here, and you know how she gets—"

The luck-god chuckled again. "I believe her exact words were to _Stay with Hermes, Persephone_," he said, mimicking the voice of Demeter perfectly.

The girl looked at him darkly. "Don't call me that," she said.

A smirk reached even his blue eyes as he addressed her. "I was just imitating your mother—ouch!" he said, shielding his arm as she launched a punch, or as much as she could muster of one, at him. "That's not very nice! I meant—_quoting_! I was _quoting_! By the Styx, Kore, there's no need to react brashly; how long have we known each other? More than a decade!"

"Well, I don't want to go," she said, hastily. "And it's been eleven-and-a-quarter years, I'll have you know."

"Well, I _am_ going, and if you don't come with me, then you're going to have to explain to your mother why it is you didn't follow her directions," he said, a triumphant grin on his face, and a chuckle at her last words.

The young maiden looked at him, exasperated. "Fine, fine, then!" she said finally, after a moment's pause. "But if I get in trouble for this—"

"You won't. I promise." He looked at her, assuringly—or rather, about as assuring as Hermes could look, his glistening sandy hair and light eyes alight with something amiss.

"Alright," she said, reluctantly.

Hermes grinned at her, and reached out his hand, for her to take. She placed her hand in his with some reluctance, completely unprepared for what came next. In one swift movement, he picked her up, placing an arm beneath her knees, and one at her back, holding her expertly.

"Hold tight," he said, hearing her let out a noise of surprise.

And then they were gone.

Through woods and over fields and across rivers and lakes and streams they went, never pausing, at breakneck speed, rapid wind whipping about them. The temperature seemed to drop off slightly after a few moments, Persephone noticed, holding tighter to him and leaning in.

"We're almost there," the young god said, offering her a smile that went unseen, trying quite hard not to notice how nice her short dark hair smelled, or how soft her skin was, or anything of that sort.

She, meanwhile, was holding tight for dear life, attempting to ward away thoughts of how wonderful it felt to be right where she was, in his arms, of all places, despite the lack of comfort that came from their great speed.

"We're here," the youthful god said, reluctance only slightly evident in his voice. He hoped it hadn't been that evident, in any event.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his questioningly for a moment before she quickly averted them, getting back on her own feet as he released his hold. She had to have imagined that, surely.

Looking down at the ice-white marble that was the flooring of great, majestic Olympus, Persephone stood, straightening her light gown and flattening her dark hair, tussled from the wind of the journey, looking to Hermes after a moment and seeing his nice sandy hair looking quite nice, even with the effects of the wind from just minutes previous. In fact, it looked even nicer. By the Styx, how did he do it?

His laughter took the young maiden from her thoughts, and his placing of his hands over hers, and then subsequently over her eyes, and leaning close to her ears made her thoughts cloud again. "Count to fifty, and then come and find me," he said, breath tickling her ear lightly before he flew swiftly, off through the great halls of Olympus, leaving her to her counting.

Great.

_One… two… three…_

Persephone sighed, continuing her counting dutifully, before finally growing exasperated and rushing through the numbers at the end, placing her hands on her hips when she'd finished and rushing off, trying to figure out where he'd gone off to.

With no luck at all.

An hour later would find her still looking for him, still combing for the parts of Olympus she knew were not in use for the usual monthly meeting of the gods at which her mother was to be present, and quite trying to avoid that general vicinity. It seemed she'd looked everywhere, combed every last inch of the place, and still, she could not find him.

Stopping in her quick steps, she sighed, wanting a rest and leaning back up against a column.

But it wasn't a column.

Jumping up, she turned around with a start, matched in surprise by the person whose body she'd leaned up against.

"Oh, by the Styx, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, startled.

The tall god in front of Kore turned about to look down at her, at first almost disdainfully, before shaking his head in vague recognition. "Just be more careful next time," he said, in a clipped tone, appraising the situation.

She blinked at him, large brown eyes almost resembling those of an anxious deer, expecting far more of an acid reply from any god.

His brow furrowed as she did so. "What were you doing?" he asked, an attempt to divert her attention, and partly also an attempt to put her more at ease, wishing rather to avoid any sort of mad rant that the Grain-goddess might go on at seeing her daughter in a fright. Not that it bothered him, of course; a fair few things intimidated this god, and Demeter was not one of them, but he would rather avoid the inconvenience of it. He came up among the living much too often for his liking as it was, however seldom his brother seemed to want to make him feel otherwise, and he didn't need further incentive to try to avoid leaving the Underworld altogether.

The young goddess looked away, and then back at him. "Looking for Hermes," she said, frowning, "he calls it something like hide-and-seek, but he's always the one hiding, and I'm always the one looking for him, and I can never find him. He's probably cheating again," she added sulkily.

The taller god gave a small chuckle, a rare thing from him, and he ran a hand through his darkest curls of hair, leaning down and beckoning her closer with his finger.

She looked at him, slightly perplexed, following his instruction in understanding after a moment.

He was not sure what made him do it, could not pinpoint the source of the impulse that compelled him to help the young girl, but there was something about her that he found less displeasing than he thought most, and the Lord of the Underworld was one who did not get on well with many.

"He's off to my left, behind the furthest column. Don't go directly there, wind your way around, make your way there slowly; I'll let you know if he moves, but I doubt that he will," he said, softly whispering in her ear.

Persephone tried not to giggle as his whisper tickled her ear, and she looked at him with the brightest of smiles. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, milord!" she said, softly but quite excitedly, eyes lit up with youthful mirth.

"Go get him," the dark god said encouragingly with a grin, watching as the girl hurried off, following his instructions, peering around this column and that, steadily nearing her target craftily, and he couldn't help but be subtly satisfied with her tactics.

Like a cat, she was patient, sneaking stealthily about, until finally pouncing.

Hades let out a chuckle, as he heard the messenger god squeal, not having expected to be found, caught by surprise.

"Tilting the scales a bit?" came a voice from behind the Underworld's ruler, not quite as deep as Plouton's, but almost, and the weight of a hand pressed lightly onto the leaner god's shoulder, as he gave only the slightest of nods, half-smirking, half-grinning.

"That's one way of putting it, brother," he said, something like mischief in his voice, and the brown-haired, dark-bearded Zeus gave him a curious look, observing the young messenger god and the younger spring maiden run about, the sandy blond gaining on the shorter brunette steadily, and then the distance between them growing as she would turn a corner sharply around a column, him clearly not pleased at having been caught and giving chase.

"Ah, the carefree days of youth," he said, whimsically, examining the situation keenly.

Hades had already filled his chuckling quota for the day, if not the year, or decade, and so he refrained from doing so, but merely nodded, watching as well. "Indeed. She's never around Olympus, though," he remarked. "Hermes, on the other hand," _one of the banes of my existence_ he added, mentally "well—"

Zeus laughed, merrily. "Well, Demeter can be a pinch—what's the word?—protective. Overprotective? Something like that. She never struck me as the type before, but ever since she had the girl, she's been positively just short of paranoid." He shrugged.

"Demeter's daughter?" the first god inquired, a brow raised, baiting veiled by his tone but his surest intent.

The god of gods did not look at him, continuing to watch the scene before them. "Yes, Demeter's."

The wealth god's inquiring brow quirked up just a little bit further, almost sure of what would come next. "And?" Alright, he needn't have asked, but in some manner, the Lord of the Underworld garnered a sort of pleasure from the discomfiture of most others.

"…Mine."

That was greeted with a snort, about as refined a snort as was capable of being made by any being, mortal or immortal, and Zeus rolled his eyes, addressing his brother.

"Of course, you quite seldom come here, too, so—"

"Zeus, once a year is quite enough," the darker coiffed god replied, blandly, refusing to fall into any sort of trap to obtain information he could later acquire. "In fact, I would much prefer something less. My responsibilities are full-time."

The king of the gods shook his head. "It wouldn't hurt for you to come more. In fact—"

His words, however, were interrupted by a stern, nearly shrill voice.

"_Persephone!_ What are you doing here, young lady?"

Zeus and Hades stopped conversing, and watched the sight.

The shorter brunette goddess met the eyes of her taller blonde mother. "Hermes brought me," the short girl replied, an air of nonchalance in her voice, though whether this was for show or because she genuinely had considered Hermes' ideas was beyond apprehension.

"What?"

"You said to stay with Hermes, and he said it would be alright if we came here," she said, blinking her brown eyes at her grey-eyed mother.

Demeter turned toward the youthful messenger god, eyes narrowed. "Hermes—" she started, waving her finger angrily at him, "why did you bring her here?"

Hermes looked at her innocently through his light eyes. "You said I had to take care of her, and I came here, so I brought her with me," he said, proud of himself for finding the loophole in Demeter's directions of earlier in the day.

The grain goddess looked at him, displeased. "Hermes," she said, tritely, clearly restraining herself, almost about to lose her patience, which was growing thinner by the moment, "next time," she said, through almost gritted teeth, holding back from screaming, "stay in Enna with the river gods and nymphs while we meet here."

Hermes nodded, sighing. "Yes, Lady Demeter, as you wish," he said, reluctantly. His gaze met that of the spring maiden with the short hair, and she could sense the constant merriment still evident in them, despite the present predicament.

"Persephone, come on, it's late and the fields need tending to, and then it's off to bed," she said, a tone of finality in her voice that commanded obedience.

The spring maiden nodded, and followed her mother, bidding a fond and somewhat rueful farewell to her friend, who watched the pair depart.

Zeus let out the lightest of chuckles off from the distance at which they'd been watching, turning to his brother. "Poor boy doesn't know what he's in for," he said.

Hades raised a brow, deciding to let the musing pass without commentary on his part. "Indeed," he said, simply. "So, what is it that you wanted to discuss about the volcanic disturbances and my realm?"

Zeus sighed; not that he shouldn't have expected this abrupt turn to business speak. His brother had long ranted on the impracticality of his attending the monthly meetings in light of his other duties, and so after much debate they'd reached a suitable arrangement. So, fine, he would move quickly to the important matters, and leave the idle chatter aside. It would probably be another year before he returned to Olympus, at least, or until the next major cataclysmic event that affected the Underworld, whichever came first.

The sun had gone down just as it always did over the fields, and Thermasia Demeter (1) whisked Kore back to their suite in Olympus late that night, shutting securely the door to the outer courtyard and putting the young girl to bed straight away.

Her mind drifted, and Clotho's words echoed in her mind. _Keep your young Kore safe, secluded from any that might abduct her, or I see much pain for you, and for humanity. Let not her be taken from you, lest she be stolen to a place where you lack the power, have not the resources to do a single thing about it._

Feeling goose bumps of fear and biting her lip, she entered the room where Persephone slept, sitting at her bedside. Demeter looked down at her daughter, reaching out and placing a hand gently on her face. The young Kore's short brown hair fanned just slightly around her head, and her breathing was steady, deep, soft notes of sleep. The mother sighed, shaking her head slightly, creases of worry etched on her brow. She'd have to keep a greater watch on her, didn't want to take any chances at Olympus, not now, not soon. She would make sure to consult the river gods and nymphs for their help, should Hermes prove unreliable once again, or should something else come up. She would do that tomorrow, as soon as Helios' light and Dawn came flitting across the sky. She would also consult with Athena and Artemis, an idea in mind to secure her daughter's safety that she would strike at nothing to make come to fruition.

**Notes.**

(1) Thermesia was an epithet invoked for Demeter meaning something close to "warmth"

Hope you liked the update. Next one to come soon, I promise! Please let me know what you think :)


	3. In busy companies of men

**Farewell Happy Fields**

**by Persephoneia  
**_E. Caddy Compson  
_

**Author's Note.**

I cannot begin to offer my thanks to those who loaned their time in reviewing my first couple of chapters. Regrettably, the constraints of time that come with life have not left me with very much time, and so this chapter took a bit longer for me to get out than the others did. I do sincerely hope you will find it worth the wait. As always, any comments, suggestions, etc, are greatly appreciated. I'd love to hear what you think :)

As before: References to other works are more like easter eggs, no copyright infringement intended (though I think most of the works I'll allude to will be out of copyright scope…). My works may also be found elsewhere, under the same pen name and such.

**III. In busy companies of men.**

The halls of Olympus were elegantly decorated in all their regal splendour, grandeur of stately marble columns and matching floors and majestic tapestries and hangings all coming together at the home of the gods of the sky-realm, more wondrous during the day, under the light of Helios, than description could allow.

They had not changed at all, not in the more than half a decade since last the spring maiden had run about in a game of hide-and-seek with the messenger god weaving through the columns.

And yet, she had. She'd gotten taller, quite a bit so, and leaned out a bit, let her hair grow long and started weaving the flowers of the fields she so loved into its gentle waves. Her skin was sun kissed from days spent out in Enna – sometimes with Hermes, though those days had since become more seldom than she might have liked, sometimes with her friends the nymphs and river gods – long days in the morning and midday and into the evening and dusk, frolicking with the nymphs and swimming in the rivers, and bounding through the fields and reading scrolls from wise Athena and chaste Artemis under the slight shade of trees large and sturdy. Today was one of those days on which Hermes had a great deal of things to attend to, one of those days Persephone had found was becoming more and more typical, and the river gods were meeting in the seas under the realm's ruler Poseidon, and so protective Demeter, the apple-bearer, not wanting to leave her daughter alone in the fields on this day of the meetings at Olympus, had brought her along, warning her to be careful and stay within the premises, but not to disturb any of the other gods.

They had come to her.

Or rather, one had. But Apollo was known for his bold demeanour and being quite forward, and so it should not have come as a surprise that the moment he'd seen Demeter leave the side of this new sight at Olympus, he'd ventured over, met timidly but with welcome by the young maiden, unseen or noticed by Demeter as she closed the large door behind her and entered the chamber where the meeting would take place, taking her seat at a long table centuries old, next to dutiful Hera who was already present, the two speaking animatedly.

"So you had to bring her today?" the Queen of the Gods asked the Grain-Goddess.

Demeter nodded, somewhat nervously, but almost expertly concealing this. "Yes, I did. Hermes is running errands for Zeus, and I didn't want to leave her out with the nymphs, without the river gods who've gone to meet with Poseidon, so I brought her with me," she said.

"How long has it been since she comes here under Helios' light?" Hera inquired.

"A bit over seven years," Demeter answered, quietly.

The queen's dark brow furrowed. Well, the girl was _Demeter's_ daughter, and _Demeter_ could do as _Demeter_ pleased with _Demeter's_ daughter… That, of course, didn't mean that she understood Demeter's logic in the matter. The woman was much too overprotective and smothering. "I'm sure she'll be fine," she said, after a moment. "She's… how old is she now?" she asked, cautiously proceeding.

"Two years short of a score,"(1) Demeter said, sighing. "Seems like just yesterday—" she shook her head, reminiscing. "Time does fly, does it not?"

The mother queen nodded, in understanding, one understanding moment among many in which she'd failed to see Demeter's reasoning. "Yes, it does, especially when one has children…"

_Meanwhile, outside the doors of the chamber, as the gods continued to enter for the meeting, another scene continued to unfold._

A charming male voice came from a youthful god, clean-shaven and tanned, typical lyre found in his hands absent this time, one of but a few. "And I've not seen you in quite a long time. My, you've gotten …quite pretty."

A blushing female voice stalled a moment, brown eyes of its possessor blinking. "Thank you, milord, but really, I shouldn't. My mother would not—"

"Ah, but that's not a problem. I mean, surely you might like a ride on my chariot, lady Kore," came the male voice, something almost suggestive about his voice, and that same suggestiveness in his fair eyes.

"Well—" Persephone paused for a moment, giving him the most curious of looks, finally catching the twinkle in his light eyes before flushing a deep crimson. "Lord Apollo!" she said, placing a cold hand over her gaping mouth and looking something of a mix of embarrassed and outraged.

The archer-god looked at her with mischief in his hazel eyes, something almost predatory, very nearly as a cat waiting to pounce.

The Maiden backed slowly, her back hitting a column, and in half an instant, his arms rose, a hand placed on either side of her, as he leaned forward close to her. "Lord Apollo," she said, softly but sternly, "I cannot. I have pledged myself to eternal maidenhood—"

"Oh precious, pretty Persephone," he said, huskily, distance between them closing quickly as he interrupted her, diminishing at a rate far too swift for Kore, as she tried to turn her face to the side. The way he'd looked at her, the husky tone of his voice, the manner in which he'd addressed her, using the name only her mother and father used on sparse occasion for her in such a peculiar way, all of it was sending off warning bells, and she attempted to move away, finding the column of marble behind her and his arms at her sides despicable obstacles.

"Don't call me that—"

There was a cough, and a clearing of the throat not twenty paces off. "Apollo, I doubt most sincerely that Demeter will be pleased at your advances, and an angry Demeter means a less-than-pleased Zeus, so I do suggest you take you sea of never-ebbing hormones to the river-nymphs," came a voice deep and matter-of-fact. "Pity you couldn't be more like your twin."

The god of music and poetry turned to fix a glare upon his disturber, but the site his eyes met gave him pause. "Lord Hades," he said, immediately withdrawing his hands and placing them quickly at his sides. "I did not know you would be here."

The Underworld's king fixed the younger god with a look of disdain, peering down at him over his nose's brim. "And I did not know that the protocol of Mount Olympus has changed to welcome standard unchaste displays of affection at any location within its halls since last I visited," he remarked.

Persephone felt a flush rise, crimson, and turned away, wishing she could melt into the floor. This was completely mortifying, and while she would normally have raised protest shrewishly, adamantly objected, or snapped a witty retort, she found herself at a loss, completely taken aback at the entire situation, and particularly uncomfortable with the earlier-made insinuations. It had been years since the maiden visited Olympus; her usual haunts of fields and frolicking picking flowers and reading in the forest's shade were not ones she usually escaped. Confined there by her mother, under what was supposed to be the watchful eyes of the River-gods and her friends the nymphs and the company of Hermes, she rarely departed her domain, did not question it because she knew nothing greater, nothing save what she'd read in the scrolls of Athena and Artemis, the worlds she would escape to in her own mind. It was her first time in Olympus in over half a dozen years, having persuaded her mother to allow her to come along on the pretence of the absence of many she trusted to keep her safe. It was also the first time in as long that she'd been in the presence of the great Hades, a god she'd not recognized until Hermes had brought up the matter, all those years ago. She'd recognized his voice in an instant now, felt her heart leap at it, inexplicably. It was a deep voice, a voice she found strangely that she was not quite adverse to, and didn't at all mind listening to.

Except, of course, in the present situation.

Flustered, the god of medicine and healing, the archer, turned with a flurry of his chiton and crimson cape and walked away, down the hall, toward the meeting of the gods, a dismissive shaking of his head the only acknowledgement of the happenings of just moments before.

There was a moment of silence, and then footsteps, footfalls of boots echoing in the great hall of marble, not loudly resounding, but softly, and it took the light jade chiton'd goddess a moment to realize that the footfalls were coming in her direction, not the same as Apollo had gone a few instants earlier, for such was her discomfiture. She swallowed, hard, remaining still, and her eyes turned just slightly beneath her lashes to confirm what she'd heard.

Plouton (2) peered at her with a degree of interest, seeing the realization of his approach dawn on her and garnering the faintest of pleasures at her display; it wasn't oft that he was among the living, and it had long ago occurred to him that many found his presence imposing, daunting, in many cases, and it was something he (perhaps not secretly) had grown to enjoy, this seeing the reactions of others to him and relishing in their discomposure.

"Lady? Are you coming to join us?" he inquired, deep quiet voice echoing as his footsteps had through the hall. There was something almost like teasing in his voice, though a slightly gentle rare undertone betrayed Hades' imposing appearance.

A very embarrassed Persephone met his eyes, more flushed than ever, trying to gather herself, to regain her composure, trying to act as though nothing had just happened, and finding this course of action easier now that Apollo had gone (though not quite as easy as she would have liked) raising her head high despite the very scarlet colour of her cheeks, a stark contrast with the peachy tanned skin on her face, unnoticed by Kore herself but quite evident to the god of the Underworld. "I wasn't sure that I was invited," she remarked somewhat tartly. "My mother is non-too-fond of my going to these things," _or most anywhere else_, she added, silently.

Her dark look betrayed her thoughts.

"--Or of you going anywhere, in fact," the tall god added, with a raised brow, meeting her evenly as she gave him a look of perplexion at his having guessed her train of thought. "Come with me."

Persephone shook her head. "No, Lord Hades, really, I oughtn't."

With a chuckle, the so-called Unseen One looked at her pointedly. "Lady, would you deny me?" he inquired, relishing further in the conflicted look that graced the maid's features as he asked. "No one will say a foul word to you or so much as give you a foul look, I swear it by the Styx," he said. "Come with me," he entreated, once more, offering her his arm.

The goddess tugged at a few locks of her long brown hair behind her back, thoughtfully, considering this for a moment. Should she? Her mother would be quite displeased, she knew; her mother had indeed been quite against any interactions of Kore's with the outside world. But this was Olympus. And Persephone was older now, no longer a giggling little girl running about and hiding behind the columns with Hermes chasing after or anything of the sort. Nodding after a moment, she took his arm, and the pair walked toward the chambers where the Olympians had assembled about a long table, Zeus at its head.

And as the door closed behind the two final arrivees, those already situated peered over, and murmurs started. An occupied Demeter sat, chatting idly with Apollo, who seemed to be pleading something with her, the War-god glaring sulkily at the conversing pair from his other side, until, nudged by Hera, she looked at the pair who'd just entered.

…and nearly fainted at the sight. She would have, anyways, had she been standing; she was quite certain of _that_.

"Persephone, what are you doing here?" she asked, in the clipped tone of a mother displeased with the actions of her daughter.

The younger goddess opened her mouth to speak, but paused as Hades gave her the slightest of nudges.

"Demeter, surely she's old enough to attend such a thing. Besides, why leave her outside alone while the rest of us are in here?" he inquired rhetorically, "I invited her to join us. So if you need take it up with someone, do so with me," he said, tone of finality in his voice.

Demeter's eyes narrowed and she glanced at Zeus, father of her daughter, with a look attempting to get him to say something, almost daring him not to.

The thunder-god gave her a look of comforting. "Now, Demeter; it's alright. I think Hades is quite right; Persephone has to grow up sometime, and why not let her sit in on things?" he asked. His tone was almost gentle, entreating, trying to reason with an obviously angered mother over the treatment of her daughter.

_Their _daughter.

He could practically hear Hera rolling her eyes at his left, between Zeus and Demeter. "Hades, please have a seat, and Persephone, as well," he said, "and we can discuss this later on, like adults; there's no need for jeering or teasing or any bad feelings."

Hades raised a brow. "I'm sure we certainly shall," he said, leading Kore as he went toward his usual seat, across from Zeus, in a chair that sometimes was empty when the Underworld's reigning lord was absent from meetings and general proceedings. He held out the chair next to his, to his right, for her to sit, and she took it with a small nervous smile and quick whispered _thanks_. Then he took his own seat, next to her, giving most a look of disdain and daring them to question him.

Clear across the table, Apollo whispered something to Demeter, and she punched his arm with a look of ardent distaste on her face. Next to his mother, Eros took careful note, though Aphrodite gave him the slightest shaking of her head. The love-god instead turned to his brother, Anteros, the mutual love-god, who nodded (3). The pair intently watched the subtle exchanges going on.

Artemis, goddess of the hunt, twin of Apollo, cleared her throat, having been standing.

"Ah yes, Artemis, please, proceed," came Zeus's voice.

The goddess nodded, "thank you, Zeus," she said, attempting to ignore the happenings in the hall, but unable to resist the urge to cast Hades a look of disapproval. "The issue of mortals over-hunting populations of animals near Thebes has come to my attention; I believe it does need to be addressed."

Athena nodded. "I am in agreement. Perhaps we should send a message; I would think Tiresias(4) might be able to convey our meaning with aptitude."

Persephone watched with interest as the proceedings continued, taking note of the issues discussed raptly. Next to her, Hades took note of the intrigue with which she paid attention. Normally, he would have been lost in his own musings until it was his turn to make a point, or until something particularly pretentious came up, but watching her was occupying his own attention, and he took idle note of the points made, explaining to her what he knew of the things she appeared not to know about and fighting the urge to grin as she would nod and the left corner of her mouth would twitch up in a half-grin of her own. She was shrewd, he would say, cut of the same mould as delightful Athena or Artemis, with a keen calculating sort of mind; he could tell from watching her dark eyes shine as she followed the proceedings cannily, the way she'd smirk at one thing, or quirk a brow at another.

The Underworld lord likewise did not fail to realize that his attention was not the only one she had. Glancing about the table, maintaining a façade of his usual demeanour, he too observed Apollo getting glares from the Grain Goddess, insatiable Ares beside him smirking, something half-plotting, half-predatory about his gaze as it fixed itself on the young goddess next to Hades himself.

The look of disdain on Demeter's features Hades knew well; he knew too that his sister would no doubt reject any and all gifts and promises and words the two nearest her might offer, and was near certain she would do likewise for any others. He knew she'd taken note of how like Athena and Artemis the girl was, and had tucked her away often in their company, knew she'd prodded the girl to seek out that long-preserv'd virginity. _Quaint honour_, indeed. Hades wanted to chuckle at the thought. Such a waste of potential; he nearly wanted to scoff.

And yet, he couldn't help but entertain a possibility. He had to fight a smirk as he delineated an outline of it in his cunning mind, glancing at his brother, whose eyes met his with a most curious look as the Queen of the Skies argued with the messenger god, who'd just entered and was demanding attention.

They would speak later.

And next to the Lord of the Underworld, the Maiden watched as Hera and Hermes bickered, before her father bid them stop. She had to suppress another smirk, entertaining the idea that perhaps he rather liked to watch the arguments that happened, and perhaps that was part of why he'd allowed the quarrel to continue. The eyes of Plouton fixed on her, watching the twitching of her lips as she fought the smirk, taking note of where she was looking, and glancing away before smirking himself.

…If she only knew.

**Notes.**

(1) A 'score' is twenty years.

(2) Plouton was another name for Hades. Alternatives include Haides, Aides, and Aidoneus.

(3) The meeting is not exclusively confined to Olympians (as you might have already guessed). Eros and Anteros were both sons of Aphrodite (consensus of sources indicates Ares as the father, though there are variations on this), and while Eros was the god of love, Anteros was the god of love returned and the avenger of unrequited love.

(4) Tiresias (also spelled Teiresias) was a seer, who is also referenced in the works of Sophocles and Aeschylus, and appears in Homer's _Odyssey_. He was famous for having changed his sex (and as a woman, was actually a priestess of Hera!). Very interesting fellow.


	4. Abduction

**Farewell Happy Fields**

**by Persephoneia  
**_E. Caddy Compson_

**Author's Note.**

Thank you, once more, to those who have taken the time to review my work. I realize it has been quite a while since I have updated this, but your words have indeed brought me back to this piece, with determination to finish it.

As before: References to other works are more like easter eggs, no copyright infringement intended.

**IV. Abduction: A fairer flower, by gloomy Dis was gathered**

A sweet breeze blew across the fields of Enna, rustling the tall grasses and flowers as several nymphs ran through, hair twined with leaves of oak and laurel, short chitons waving in the wind. A laughing goddess joined them, running through the fields and picking flowers, plucking them with care, until the woods were reached, the maidens jovially continuing, splashing water at one another by a clear running brook. Another goddess and another, too, were with the group, one with her hair secured in a tight, neat, severe bun atop her head, lacking the helmet which had been entrusted to her by their mutual father, the other with a pair of messy braids. The scrolls they'd been studying, reading hungrily and discussing passionately, earlier in the day lay long-since forgotten in a satchel nearby, beneath a tree next to a gentle brook.

Each of the goddesses, and several of the nymphs, had in hand curious creations they'd made by weaving various flowers and fronds together. The sun had long since reached its zenith, was nearing the tree-line, but not quite there yet, in late afternoon, and the Goddess of Wisdom called out to Demeter's daughter, who was still searching for flowers.

"Kore, it's almost suppertime," she called.

The maiden looked back at her name, taking one last white violet, adding it to the others in her small wreath, situated alongside numerous white lilies, and waved.

"I'll be in in a bit," she said. "I'm just going to get a couple of more flowers, and I'll head back. Tell my mother I'll be there in a few minutes."

The Goddess of the Hunt gathered her things meanwhile, and joined Athena.

"Alright, Kore, we'll see you back on Olympus for supper," she said.

Athena shook her head. "Oh, nonsense. We can wait. The nymphs aren't heading in yet anyways," she said. "We'll be waiting by the brook, Kore."

"Sounds divine!" the girl called back, turning away once more, continuing her search. She walked further, beyond a bend, and into a clearing, spotting a most curious flower. She approached, running a hand through her long dark hair, wound in light loose ringlets into which flora were intertwined, no longer bouncing from her skipping through the fields.

She glanced at her wreath, noting the way the white violets and lovely lilies were carefully woven together, interlaced perfectly, as only the daughter of Demeter could. It had been missing something, she knew, had known since she'd placed that last flower on it, and she was determined to finish it at least, to show that she'd made something beautiful on this day. Her mother would probably laugh, she knew, but it would give her a feeling of accomplishment, something to add to the scrolls she'd studied earlier in the day with her half-sisters, something to look at when she lay awake at night, thinking of things she kept inside.

Kneeling down, she peered at it astutely, perusing it with interest as she took in each and every detail of it, from its white petals to the golden, yellow-to-orange fading centre of it, the corona, or trumpet. She traced a finger over and noted the soft texture, the way it was an herbaceous perennial, how the monocot grew from a bulb, the entire thing a neat little diagrammatic picture in her head.

Carefully, she reached out and plucked it, twining it into her wreath, looking lovingly down at her creation. It was not a wreath, no. It resembled more a tiara, a sort of crown of flowers, the narcissus a crowning jewel to go at its front.

Chuckling at the thought, she placed it atop her head, mock-curtsying as she'd been taught, before chuckling once more, unable to keep a straight face, dancing circles in a lovely girlish fantasy, there among her flowers, dark auburn ringlets twined with flowers waving in the air, crown atop her head with flowers as well.

Slowing in her dance, she nearly ran into something as she stopped, deadpanning, her eyes opening wide at the sight that met her, flushed with embarrassment, though something else made her insides jump, as well, something she could not contemplate.

"Oh, by the Styx, I'm terribly sorry!" she said, cheeks rather red. She curtsied before him eloquently. "Lord Hades, I did not hear you approach."

The Underworld's King had been watching her, staring with ravenous eyes as she danced, so sensual in her movements and unaware of the seductive sway of her hips, how her tresses waved, wanton ringlets bouncing with each step. Beneath his helm of invisibility he'd stood there, watching, silent and waiting for her to take the flower he'd made for her, caused to grow from Gaia, a snare for the bloom-like girl, a marvelous, radiant flower. He stepped forth and took her chin in his hand, titling her head up gently.

"Your eyes should face the ground for no one," he said, his deep voice soft.

Persephone's brow furrowed in confusion, dark eyes looking at him, questioningly.

"What--?" The neighing of steeds distracted her from adding further to her inquiry, however, and as she turned to look, her face moving from his hold, she realized the dark horses—darker than any she'd ever seen before, drawing a winged chariot, hurrying near—were practically upon them. Her eyes snapped back to him, open wide, in a split second, the girl paled, blush of color gone from her cheeks.

He took her then, grabbed hold of the goddess in one swift movement and mounted the chariot drawn by his steeds. Flowery diadem still on her head, she cried out, kicked and wrenched, writhed and pushed against him, shouted as the black manes plunged down to the black pit.


	5. Take me back to my fields and flowers

**Farewell Happy Fields**

**By Persephoneia**

**Author's Note.**

It has been incredibly long since I updated this—and for that I offer my apologies. I've gotten sidetracked with school and career-furthering, and the like, but I always found myself coming back to this story, tweaking things, writing more in spurts. I have seen it continue to be added to author alerts and favorites, and it makes me insanely giddy to think that my writing is appreciated :)

That having been said: here is the fifth chapter, too long in the making, again littered with references to literary works and the like. I'm going to be going back and fixing some inconsistencies in the earlier chapters within the next month or so (I still have finals coming and then write-on competition for journal), and the next chapter should be posted within the next week or so (it's nearly finished).

Please let me know what you think! I'm always happy to hear suggestions, comments, constructive criticism, etc.

**V. Please, take me back to my fields and flowers.**

The darkness was vast, suffocating, unlike anything she had ever known. The night was dark in the fields, and even from Olympus, but even then, the stars, bright little pinpricks of light were scattered across the midnight blue above. Under the ground, there was nothing. The spring goddess could scarcely tell whether her eyes were open or shut for a long moment.

Then, there was a small reflection of light across one of the rocks—overhead or next to her, she couldn't quite tell. Then, there was another, and another, different colors all of them, not like stars, but rather prismatic. Still struggling, pushing against the god who held her tightly, she squinted, trying to get a better look at her surroundings. Crystals and gems, as she had never seen before, rushed past, more and more in number as they journeyed deeper and deeper. Kore had never seen such things. She blinked, shaking her head slightly, and resuming her fidgeting and pushing, noting that they were nearing the ground, passing over the vast river she had only heard tales of, and the ferryman as he pushed his skiff off from the opposite shore. The chariot flew low, over fields of asphodel and past the huge three-headed dog, black and ferocious and barking at his master's arrival, and the cattle herds cared for by Menoetius before finally landing with barely a bump, not thirty yards from a huge palace.

"Let go of me!" she said.

He released his hold, and eyed her carefully.

Kore was silent for a moment as she looked at him, completely ignoring their surroundings, not staring at the vast building in front of them, or commenting on the journey there, nothing about the riches under the ground or the beasts they had passed.

She did not glance around, did not look past the black gates, not at the Stygian city or orchards or Asphodel fields, not toward the ferocious hound or sable-black cattle, not to the winding rivers or the ferryman, not at the royal palace with its echoing halls. Instead, the spring goddess looked at him, the Ruler of Many, King of the Dead in his darkly exalted majesty, grimly resplendent, her eyes meeting his evenly. He looked fit for his vast domain, seemed even taller and more imposing a figure in the darkness of his realm.

"Why have you brought me here? What do you want with me?" she asked, without hint of hesitation, her tone far from warm or pleased. There was no curtsy, no smile, no subtle coyness to her voice or demeanor — just a pointed, questioning look, jaded and skeptical, leery and mindful, betraying the fanciful blooms that were woven into her tresses — lilies and violets aplenty, that luring narcissus made to grow as a snare tucked behind her ear — and the flowery diadem that sat atop her head. The bouquet she'd held in her hands minutes before had scattered to the wind when he had taken her, abducted her, and now she looked at him, wanting to know why. "Please, take me back to my fields and flowers."

"Persephone," Hades offered her his arm, which she looked at with a raised brow for an awkward silent moment. Unflinching, he took her hand in his and looped her arm with his himself. Then, he led her toward the palace, up marble steps. The large double doors opened before them, as if on cue.

She looked at him again.

"Why have you brought me here? Please, take me back to my fields and flowers."

Again, there was no answer, just a nod toward the direction in which he was leading her.

Inside the palace itself was beyond description. The floors were black marble, the walls white marble, with inexplicably intricate tapestries, woven with richly colored threads and what seemed to be gold and silver, in places. Ornate rugs covered the floors, in matching rich colors, and the ceiling seemed twenty or thirty feet overhead. There were large windows on either side of the entrance hall, and indeed, through each vast room they passed, decorated with window hangings in exotic fabrics Kore had never seen.

Kore's dark eyes opened wide for a fraction of a moment as they scanned the room quickly, but her attention quickly turned to him again. And she was about to repeat her question when they entered a room easily three times the size of the throne room at Olympus, with three large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, an ornate red rug running down the center of the room, toward a dais. On the dais, there were two thrones, just as splendid as anything else in the palace, if not moreso, one carved, it seemed, of ebony, and the other of ivory. And on the ivory throne was a box, cherry wood with what looked like floral decorations on it, in gold leaf.

Hades held out his free hand, and the box flew toward him; he caught it effortlessly.

"Persephone, I want to say something to you," he said, unlooping his arm from hers and taking her hand.

She looked at him curiously, though the peculiarity of her situation was certainly not forgotten. But Kore knew she had to approach the whole thing carefully. She did not know of another way out of the Underworld—she had never heard of any way to get out save by paying the ferryman his fare, and to do that she would have to get away from Hades, past his guards, past the massive dog, and what seemed a very long way to just break into a run without a plan. So, she listened, and tried to be polite. Perhaps, she thought, she could reason with him and he would take her back. This was probably just a misunderstanding—after all, Hades did not seem the type to transform himself into animals to deceive women and have his way with them or anything of the sort. He seemed rational, at least. His words took her from her reverie.

"If it pleases you to be my true loyal queen and friend, to consent to marry me, I promise, I'll take you as my queen, as queen of the Underworld, ruling by my side, as an equal, over a third of the world." He smiled at her, and even as she opened her mouth to speak, he placed a finger over her lips to silent her.

"I won't have a thought or an affection for anyone else. If you agree to be my wife, I promise, I shall serve only you," he said. He looked at her expectantly. But the reaction he got was anything but what he had hoped for.

"Your wife? Your _queen_?" she asked, the disbelief evident on her features.

"Yes, and you will have everything you need. Everything to give to you within my power is yours, just ask." He paused, looking at her. Then he opened the box, revealing a sparkling crown, glittering platinum, with more diamonds than Kore had seen in her entire life, and several emeralds, and rubies, and pearls, all arranged so that they formed flowers.

The spring goddess' dark eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him incredulously, but said nothing. Those dark eyes had only glanced at the box for half a moment.

"What is it?" he asked. "Do you not like it?" he shifted almost nervously, a rarity for the King of the Dead.

She shook her head and he looked at her, confused.

"No, it's not that," she said, carefully. "It's lovely, really, any woman would be happy to have it, but," she closed the box carefully, and pushed it to him slightly. "I cannot be your queen."

Hades laughed, his laughter echoing throughout the large chamber. "Oh? And why is that?" he asked, amusement shining in his eyes.

The spring goddess looked at him. "Your gracious majesty," she began, "this crown is much too beautiful, and I, unworthy to receive it. I think I never gave your majesty cause to give such a thing to me."

He shook his head, chuckling again, and returned the closed box to the ivory throne. He took both her hands this time, before grabbing her chin and tilting it up gently as his blue eyes bore into her dark pair.

"My lady, this crown was made for you, just as that throne," he gestured toward the ivory throne, and on closer inspection, Kore could see that it, too, was decorated with engravings of flowers, "not for anyone else. And why are you not worthy when I deem you so?" he asked, stroking her cheek gently. His brown hair and shadow of his short beard shone very slightly in the lighting of the room.

She pulled away, brows knitted together. "Your highness," she said, "your tokens and signs of affection frighten me." She took a step back. "How can I be to you what you think me to be?" She half-laughed, in almost nervous disbelief. "I am just a spring goddess. I do not belong here. I belong up there, with my mother, with my friends, and the flowers and birds and trees and grass."

"No, Persephone, you do belong here," he said, in a tone that was just marginally shorter than his previous words. From his perspective, she was being stubborn. He was offering her a crown, a throne, rule over a third of the cosmos and his loyalty—perhaps the long way down had left her dazed and confused. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him, almost flush against him, pushing her hair back with his free hand and leaning in toward her ear. "I would be no unfitting husband to you, my sweet Persephone," he whispered, his breath tickling her.

The spring goddess was unused to any sort of intimate contact, had never experienced anything like this proximity. She had been playful with Hermes, for certain, and had been subject to Apollo's sweet words with crude meanings behind them—Hephaestus had even given her a necklace of glittering jewels, which had left her mother utterly horrified—but there had never been anything like this. Her face felt hot, very hot, and she was very aware that she was blushing a vivid red. She pulled away, again, placing her hands on his chest to help her distance herself from him.

"You—kidnapped—me!" she said, her voice just a bit louder than it had been before. Gone was the attempt at reason, at negotiation, at trying to talk him into releasing her. She looked flustered, could feel her heart hammering away inside her chest, beating wildly. She pointed at him, an accusatory look in her eyes. "You took me from my friends, from my fields, my flowers, from everything I have ever known."

"I desire to make you my queen, Persephone," he said. "Is that not enough? I have offered you a chance to raise you up, to treat you as an equal. It is not so bad down here. I am not so bad, I promise you." There was still a hint of pleading in his voice, but his tone was becoming shorter and shorter. In truth, Hades was beginning to get upset. And what she said next did nothing to help the cause she was trying to further.

She broke out, protesting, "No winning words about death to me, your highness! By Styx, I'd rather slave on earth for another man—some dirt-poor worldly mortal who scrapes to keep alive—than rule down here over all the breathless dead!" she said, angrily.

Hades' lighter eyes darkened considerably as he looked at her. Her words hit him like cold water, stabbed at his insides a way he had never known. His expression hardened and he grabbed her arm again. "Listen to me, Persephone," he said, "you will rule down here with me, and you will be my queen. That is final," his voice was stern, louder than she had heard it yet, and had she been anyone who knew him better she would have been silent and nodded, averted her eyes, or something.

But she did not.

Instead, she met his gaze without shrinking back, pulling her arm away roughly. "You didn't even let me say good-bye!" she said fiercely.

Hades paused. "No. No, I did not," he said. "For that I must apologize," he added. "But I saw no other way."

She half-laughed again, a bitter near-chuckle. "No other way? Because what you did was not barbaric?"

"Enough!" he half-yelled, his voice echoing throughout the halls.

Persephone, again, did not shrink back, but glared up at him defiantly. "So now what?" she asked, crossing her arms in an almost defensive way and looking at him. The unasked question hung in the air heavily, and it was quite clear what she meant by her words: was he going to drag her to wherever his bedchamber was and attempt to assert whatever sort of conjugal rights he thought he was entitled to, now that he had made all these proclamations? She scowled at the thought, trying hard not to let the very real fear she was starting to feel creep over her.

"I'll show you to your rooms. Since you will be staying with us for a while, I want to see to it that you are comfortable," he said, cordially.

"_My_ rooms?" she asked, raising a dark brow and making no move to step closer to him—in fact, she was trying every bit to inch away as best as she could.

"Yes, your rooms," he said, with an air of nonchalance. "My own will be just down the hall." He paused, for dramatic effect. "Unless you'd like to stay in Tartarus," he added, trying to lighten the mood with a macabre joke.

Unfortunately, she seized the opportunity to quip back, eager for anything to steer the subject away from rooms and beds and being confined to the same small space with him.

"Oh? I was unaware that that was an option," she said.

Hades shot her a glare. "Do you ever not have anything to say?" he asked, taking her shoulders and leading her out of the throne room, up a large staircase, and down another hallway, past more tapestries, more windows with exotic hangings only drawing attention to the bleak landscape that surrounded the stately palace. And despite all the gold, the gems, the elaborate decor, there were no flowers, not real flowers, anyway, no fish swimming through the streams or rivers, no birds flying—even the trees seemed dull and near inanimate. She suppressed a shiver as he stopped in front of a large door, again with an elaborate floral motif carved into it.

He opened the door with a wave of his hand and gestured for her to enter.

The room itself was decorated in mostly rich greens, and was easily two or three times as large as her room with Demeter. A large window opened to a balcony overlooking the orchards below, with a view of the river. On the far side of the room, the bed was immense, a style she had never seen before, and dressed in fabrics she did not recognize with patterns just as tasteful and exquisite as everything else in the damnable place. An open door led to a bathroom, and another to what looked like a dressing room, with an expansive closet. On the nightstand was a vase of flowers—not real, fresh cut, but rather crystal imitations, and the mirrored vanity had another, hand-held looking glass decorated with jewels, and a matching comb and brush. There was also a chimneyplace, closer to the door, with a plush rug next to it, in front of a luxurious sofa.

Hades watched her take in the sight before her; she appeared almost flabbergasted for half a second, but it was short-lived.

She turned to him, frowning again. "This is, again, all very beautiful, so much more than I've ever had, but I cannot accept this," she said. "Please, take me back to my fields and flowers."

"No. You are accepting this, and I am not taking you back. Do not ask me again." He said. "I will be tending to my duties. You are more than welcome to join me, or you may rest until dinner, or look around the grounds, if you wish. If you need anything, our servants can attend you, or you can come to me," he added, before she could say anything further. He turned and walked out the door, closing it just in time to hear the crash of something breaking against the door behind him.

"I am not asking! I am no longer asking!" she said, fuming in anger and desperation. "Please! Let me go! I don't need anything! I don't want anything from you! Just let me go! My freedom is all I desire!" She leaned up against the far wall and gradually slid down to the floor, holding her knees close to her, as if it would make her feel safer, but feeling very apprehensive all the same, placing her face in her hands. "The only thing I want in the world is to go back," she almost whispered, her voice soft and nearly cracking.

How long he stood outside the door listening, waiting for more was difficult to say. But after several moments of silence elapsed, he finally broke away, unable to hear more. He should have known better than to listen to his brother, better than to do anything the way that the King of Olympus had suggested...


End file.
